Of Loss and Life
by Kirabaros
Summary: Death is considered a natural thing just like living. Set in the three weeks during Hello Cruel World, a little contemplation on what life and death means between Angela and Sam Winchester. Written in honor of Day of the Dead which is Nov 2.


**Of Loss and Life**

Angela always said that she didn't fear Death but life. Death she didn't fear because in most respects, she had all the time in the world and Death was often swift even after prolonged suffering. Living however was full of anguish. Being able to live as long as she had, it was depressing. Watching people that meant so much go through their lives, age and die and once again she was alone. Every time it was like a pain in the heart and yet Angela kept forming relationships with people, taking pleasure in making sure they lived a full life. She had few regrets and they were meant for the people that mattered to her the most.

Angela thought about her long life as she made the finishing touches in the room in the cabin. They weren't using it for anything else and had commandeered it for her own use, never stating why she needed the broom closet. Bobby humored her as usual but she had detected concern, which was not his fault since she had been snappish with everyone that was awake, injured or not. Dean gave her space, which wasn't that difficult since he still had a cast on his leg. Sam, she left alone unless she sensed extreme distress from him through their bond, and he requested that she let him try on his own. So for the past two weeks she had been rather lonely but too agitated by her own feelings and problems to go to the people that would have helped. When she looked at the calendar, she realized what day was coming and after what had happened, she felt that it was necessary.

It took her two days to get what she needed and to clean out the broom closet in Rufus' cabin. Now she was spending the day setting things up all the while keeping up with her usual chores of seeing to it that the Winchesters and Bobby had their meals and general cleaning around the place. As she cooked lunch, she thought about people she had met over the centuries but the ones that stuck in her mind were Mary, John, crotchety Rufus, Jo and Ellen, Ash, Gabe and of course Cas.

Mary and John were dead and that was because of the whole thing with Azazel but Angela remembered the happy times… well the happy times that she had witnessed from afar, like Dean at the age of four and racing towards his parents. She also remembered the desperate times that Mary called for her, the first being when Dean had that bad case of pneumonia and then when Sam almost died of pertussis at four months. Now the boys were getting into their own messes of death and near death.

Rufus, she only knew through Bobby but in the few times they had met, they shared a bond… and a love of Johnny Walker Blue. Rufus always tried to shoo her away when she pestered him for the things he knew. However she was not put off by it and would always leave him eating his own words and a grin on his face. Like the danger of every hunter, Rufus died on the job and she felt the loss though not as much as Bobby. That much she sensed. Yet Bobby appreciated her efforts after that in their own brand of comfort.

The Roadhouse gang, as she called them, too many good times. Jo and Ellen were not replacements for Mary but they filled a void in their own way. Jo was like the little sister she never had and Ellen was always ready with advice like a mother would. They had way too many good times on hunts. Angela's favorite was still that thing in the bar in Oklahoma. That was the inspiration for many mind messing moments with the Winchesters. Ash was loveable brother that was a dork at times but when he did his stuff, he was Dr. Badass. Angela remembered how she out drank him in the beers and that was how it was discovered that alcohol never made her drunk.

Gabriel, or Gabe, the Messenger of God and the Trickster that pissed Sam and Dean off one too many times; good times except for the Mystery Spot incident. He was her first guardian and he wasn't even ordered to watch out for her. Angela remembered the first time they met before her father died, giving his life to save hers. Gabe was the same as he was when he met the Winchesters, sarcastic, cynical and a twisted sense of humor and yet he was gentle and kind, if only to her. It was because of Gabe that she had Absolution, the blade predicted to be wielded by **the** Malachi. Looking back, Angela knew that whole debacle that led to their falling out was a result of Gabe trying to protect her from the dicks with wings that were as cold as a stone. As she stirred the sauce she was making, she recalled that Gabe never called her by the name she went by now but by the name her parents had given her. No other person, living, dead, human or supernatural called her that. Now he was dead because he finally made a stand against Lucifer. She knew he was dead because she felt the burn of his sigil on her shoulder. She lost a good friend and a brother.

Cas, short for Castiel, was the last person to die and leave her. Oh she had been angry at first because of the circumstances that led to his death but they dissipated when she focused and grabbed onto that part that was still Cas. The Angel of Thursday was a dick like the other angels but he was different the moment he showed up and told her to keep up with her work. He branded her tattoo with his own sigil underneath Gabe's. Cas had orders but not from Michael. Joshua told her that it was he who had told the young angel to claim guardianship by God since Gabe couldn't be found. Even though Cas annoyed her and downright pissed her off along with the Winchesters about the seals and the vessels clauses, she loved that angel. There were times when he did things that he shouldn't have but the look he would give her told her that he did it for her. Granted it was funny when she caught him in a make out session with one of her pies, she knew that she didn't want the angel to be any other way.

Angela was broken out of her reverie when she felt a kiss on her cheek. She turned to see Sam standing nearby trying to discern if she was in one of her gourmet dinner moods or not. She said, "Hey. How's the head?"

"Good," Sam replied. "Whatever you did worked. There's hardly a bruise. What about you?"

It was loaded for Angela. Ever since she came back from the cage, it had been an emotional rollercoaster that made her question her own sanity half a dozen times. If it wasn't the nightmares that were a twisted collection of all her visits to Hell, it was the hallucinations of Lenya, Alistair and Azazel or new abilities that just showed up or went haywire and nearly scaring to death the Winchesters and Bobby. It had gotten better and she owed that to Sam. She replied, "My usual: biting off Dean's head, biting off Bobby's and cleaning up around here." She finished stirring the sauce and started on the enchiladas she had decided on. Her hands flew, never spilling a drop of sauce.

Sam watched her work, always amazed how she could keep up with all the pots at various stages of being done. He knew though that she avoided completely answering his question but didn't press it. At least she was getting enough sleep, a thing he made sure of. For lack of anything better to do, he picked up a spoon and started stirring the black beans she had made. He said, "You know you can ask us to clean too."

"Right. Dean's leg is in a cast and Bobby is busy with Leviathan research and won't let me help. So I'm doing the two things I've been good at since day one besides fighting: playing nurse and housekeeper," Angela replied as she finished the two trays she had planned. She then went over to check the chicken mole that was her personal favorite. She then checked Sam's progress on the beans and said, "Just a little bit of salt."

Sam humored her since it was one of the few times he spent with her in a more or less relaxed state. "Any reason for all the Mexican food?"

"Felt like it," Angela replied as she checked the bread loaves in the oven. How she found the recipe for this bread was beyond her but she was good with her hands. The loaves were done and she pulled them out and put them aside. "I felt like spicing up things."

"Aren't they already?" Sam asked.

"Probably. You know my senses are off."

Seeing that the beans were done, Sam turned the flame off and looked for a bowl to put them in. Having done that, he noticed that she was spooning rice into another dish as well as some other strange food. He was new to that connection thing but he wasn't blind and could see that she was bothered by something. He came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her and asked in her ear, "Are you still thinking about Cas?"

Angela sighed. She knew Sam was that perceptive and that didn't need a bond between them to discern her troubles. She replied, "That and Death in general. Just thinking about people in my life that I've met and watch die over the years. Death doesn't bother me Sam. Hell we've been killed and I can't tell you how many times I've been in that place between Death and living. It's living. It's hard watching people live, grow old and die and you see how short it is."

Sam rested his chin on top of her head and listened. It was true that the life they led had them die and be nearly killed more times than could be counted. "Do you regret any of it?" he asked knowing that she would understand what he meant.

"If I did, I wouldn't be here now," Angela replied. She paused a moment to sink into the embrace, grounding her feet again. She motioned where Sam was to help and they finished the meal and did the set up as she normally did on the table. Before placing the food on, she made a couple of plates and placed them on the tray she had the bread on. She also snagged a few beers from the fridge while hollering to Dean to get to the table before she decided to serve him a salad. Picking up the tray, she headed into the direction of the broom closet. She paused by Sam who was wondering where she was going and said, "Even though the people I meet eventually die, the thing that stays with me the most are the moments of life and that makes living bearable."

She started walking only to have Sam follow her and open the door to reveal the product of her toils. The altar was small since the room was small but everything was arranged to make it look huge. The tiers held photos that she had found and each was placed next to a small candle. The arch was made painstakingly and interwoven with marigolds and small oranges. More oranges were on the table with more marigolds. Angela placed her food in the arrangement she thought best and set the tray down. She popped open the four beers she snagged and held one out to Sam and put the other two on the altar.

"So this was why you said the broom closet was yours?" Sam looked at her work with amazement. He saw the pictures and could make out his parents, Rufus, Jo and Ellen with Ash, Gabriel and Cas. "Why?"

Angela looked at the altar and held the opened beer in her hands. She leaned against the door frame and said, "Don't think of me as being callous, Sam, but I see death as a natural part of life and maybe that's why we get along so well even though he looks pissed at me every time he sees me. By remembering how the people I knew lived, in a way it reaffirms why I do what I do." She held her beer, and looked down at it. She added, "You know because of you and your brother, I stopped dwelling on things that were beyond my control as my fault. It doesn't make it hurt any less."

Sam held the beer Angela had given him and studied her. Out of everyone, he was the one who bothered to notice how everything the past couple of weeks affected her. It wasn't that they didn't care and he had an inkling that she insisted worrying about Sam was priority. That was her and he loved her for it, her unselfishness with herself. Now it was her turn to be paid attention to. "That's true. So what do you remember?"

"Lots of things, mostly when Dean was four and you were an expensive crying piece of wrinkles." Angela smiled ignoring the look Sam was giving her. "Oklahoma with Jo and Ellen and then that night in the Roadhouse, Ash and I trying to out drink each other, Rufus telling me to mind my own damn business after I gave him a cheek, Gabe and those days and Cas… mostly the funny stuff." Angela looked at the altar and the work she had done on it. She took a tentative sip of beer and then added, "The Day of the Dead is the time when people remember their loved ones not so much to mourn but to celebrate life, the life the people that mattered the most lived. Building this helped me remember that."

Sam looked at the altar. He remembered one case in New Mexico that actually revolved around the Day of the Dead and what happened was that some poltergeist took advantage of the situation and had been terrorizing the town. They had gotten rid of it but Sam hadn't thought about it since. He didn't even know about the reasoning behind the celebration and to hear it now from Angela he realized that it was her way of releasing a lot of the crap she bottled up. Looking at her, she did seem different, almost… wiser? Curious about the altar, he asked, "Why the food?"

Angela smiled, "The marigolds guide the way for the spirits of deceased loved ones to the correct house. The food is for them to enjoy while they visit. Stories say that food left out, while not physically eaten, is still enjoyed by them and there is a difference to it." She gave a slight shrug with her shoulders and said, "It's a nice gesture. Lets them know you still think about them and honor them through living."

Sam looked at it and then at Angela. He knew that she missed them and knew how much she clung to the few relationships she had. Her friends at the academy were friends and close ones but her relationship with him, Dean and Bobby; she clung to like it was a lifeboat in the middle of the ocean. This was a means of her letting go to what was already lost. She had once said something along the lines of getting busy living or get busy dying. That was the choice. Watching her it looked like she was getting busy to live again and if anything he was glad for that. He didn't know what he would do if she gave up now.

"Hungry?"

Sam was startled and asked, "What?"

Angela looked at him as if to check if he were seeing things and he let her. She wouldn't be satisfied until she was sure. "Are you hungry?"

"Yeah. Are you?" Sam looked at her with a teasing look.

"Maybe." Angela held out a hand and he took it and they walked towards the dining room, leaving the closet door open. Angela gave a backward glance at it and then smiled.

Living could sometimes be unbearable but the little things that made it worthwhile still remained. It was like food for the soul for one who had lived as long as Angela. Remembering those things channeled purpose to live and honor the memory of those who had shaped and defined the life that had been lived. That was what Angela discovered standing there with Sam and she knew she could face what was to come even as messed up as things were.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** This was a little gem I cooked up to commemorate Dia de los Muertos or Day of the Dead. It is exclusively a Mexican holiday that celebrates the life of all those that have died. The tidbits about the marigolds and such are all factual regarding the altars and the traditions associated with them. This is one holiday that whole families will go nearly bankrupt for. Some other familiar things are sugar calacas or skulls that traditionally have the names of the dead put on them. There are special breads that are served and placed on the altars. The Day of the Dead generally occurs on the night of Nov 2 but it has been known to start Nov 1, which in Christian tradition is All Souls Day.

If you are wondering why Angela, who is Italian by birth, would bother, keep in mind that she has traveled a lot and has seen different customs for different occassions and maybe once or twice participated.

Hope you read and enjoy. Reviews are always welcome.


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